


Proximity

by redscout



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Pre-Canon, Trans Male Character, unsafe binding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 12:07:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18031451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redscout/pseuds/redscout
Summary: Hosea has some... conjectures, about the newest member of the gang.





	Proximity

**Author's Note:**

> hey yall ive been trying to write rdr2 fic for literal months now and im sorry this little number is all i have to show for it thus far (but im still trying!). dipping my toes in the water to establish dear old arthur morgan (And hosea) as trans  
> and before i get flamed bc i KNOW this shit is cliche im trans and sometimes you just wanna write self-indulgent trans father son bullshit. enjoy

“Hey, Arthur,” Hosea begins, keeping his approach gentle as he addresses the boy. “I’d like to talk to you about something, if you don’t mind.” Arthur pauses in place, hands still adjusting the saddle on one of the horses, and he moves slowly, humming from deep in his chest in a way Hosea feels helps convince himself he talks lower than he does.

“What you want?” he mumbles, moving away from the horses to sit on the back of the wagon nearby. Hosea follows slowly, squaring his jaw.

“I know you’ve only been runnin’ with us for a few months now,” he posits, speaking with his hands, “and you ain’t run out on us yet, and I’m grateful for that.” Hosea pauses in his speech to alight next to Arthur, who has a stern look of confusion twisted into his still-too-skinny features. “I trust you. I’d like to put that out there. You’re a smart boy.”

“What game are we playin’ here?” Arthur pipes up.

“Arthur, the other day... when old Dutch took a tumble off his horse, scratched his arm up to hell, you remember—“ and he does, because he snickers freely, “—I noticed, in treating his wound, our surgical tape has gone missing. Again.” The teen stills at this, and his eye contact dissipates instantly, just as expected. “I don’t want to suggest nothin’, but I do have some facts; neither Dutch nor I have any reason to steal our own surgical tape, and I know Ms. Annabelle and Ms. Bessie wouldn’t touch it without mentioning it had been taken from the medical supplies. I also know a similar occurrence happened a few weeks ago— surgical tape, into thin air.” He pauses again, to gauge the younger’s reaction. Arthur has receded in on himself slightly, as he was prone to do, and Hosea waits a moment longer, cocking an eyebrow. “Now, I’m not saying th—“

“Who cares about some— some damn tape?” Arthur interrupts, still looking in his lap. “I-I ain’t got no reason to steal nothing and ‘specially not... medical stuff.”

“You’re with me on the believin’ that tape don’t just disappear, though, right?” Hosea asks. There’s a beat; Arthur’s gaze travels upwards for a moment, and Hosea knows he’s searching, looking for the telltale sign that punishment was to follow this encounter. He recognizes the wild look in the boy’s eyes, and it makes his chest ache a bit.

“...Yes,” he responds, after a time.

“We’re not in dire straits without it, by any means, but if you happen to see it—“

“I might...” Arthur pauses, playing with his fingers, and then continues, even softer. “I might know who took it.” Hosea lets the declaration hang for a moment, trying to decide where to take it from there.

“Was he injured?” he tries, gently, and Arthur looks back up at him, struggling to read his expression. Hosea is implicative, then; he wants this conversation to be had. “We’ve established it was taken, from the medical box, and the, ah... person, who took it, you know of.” Arthur seems to catch on then, and he nods. “Were they injured?”

“...No,” Arthur says. “Not... not... no.”

“‘Not’?”

“He just wasn’t.” His tone is biting— defensive, Hosea realizes, with pause, and he re-evaluates before continuing.

“Well, surely you may know of a reason he took it,” he suggests. The teen thinks for a minute.

“Accident?” he tries.

“Two rolls of surgical tape, taken from the medical box, on accident?”

“Maybe not a accident.”

“Any other reason you can think of?” Hosea’s tone is soft; this is clearly a bigger deal than he initially believed it to be, and the going is slow, but it’s evident Arthur _wants_ to open up, even with his fidgets and reticence. It’s a little odd, seeing him in such a state— the fourteen-year-old had been nothing but abrasive and loud and fiery since they’d first picked him up, almost comically so. This was antithetical, and it made him look as young as he really was.

“Maybe.”

“Okay, let me pose something for you, Arthur,” he continues. “So the person who took this surgical tape... clearly had a good reason to do so. If we know why it was taken, and then get it back, perhaps we could just put it back in the medical box without Dutch, or anybody else, ever knowing it was gone. For simplicity’s sake.” It takes a moment for Arthur to realize he’s speaking completely seriously, and his expression softens in turn.

“Maybe... he was usin’ it to... tape somethin’ down.”

“Like what?” Hosea asks. Arthur pretends to think.

“His... chest. Maybe.” Hosea stills at this slightly, and Arthur seems to notice his change in attitude, darkening.

“Now, why would he do that?” Hosea questions, softly.

“Maybe it... his chest... it ain’t _normal_.”

“Normal how?” Arthur shakes his head.

“You couldn’t know.”

“You’re right, I couldn’t know,” Hosea states. “Not without being told. I’m not sure what a ‘normal’ chest is.”

“Flat,” Arthur suggests.

“A flat chest is a normal chest?”

“For men.”

“Just men?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Arthur settles. Hosea cracks a small smile.

“Well, I don’t got a flat chest.” Arthur stills at this; he looks at Hosea again and his eyes are wide with confusion, with beckoning. Hosea meets his gaze calmly.

“But—“

“You’re right, I am a man, and I don’t have a flat chest. Perhaps it’s not so abnormal.” Hosea stands, moving to walk off, and Arthur scrambles to follow him, clearly desperate for answers.

“My daddy said—“

“Your daddy ain’t here, son,” Hosea says, stopping and turning to look at him. “Just me.” Arthur looks up at him for a long while, relaxing gradually. “How’s about we go and get that surgical tape back from our culprit, huh?”

“...Okay,” Arthur exclaims. “I-I think I might’a seen him leave it under my bedroll. Bastard.”

“Maybe now he’ll realize he can come talk to ol’ Hosea if he ever starts doubting his own credibility,” Hosea postulates, giving the younger man a short pat on the shoulder as they walk.

“What’s that mean?”

“I told ya we can start on vocabulary when you start practicing your writing more, Arthur,” Hosea chides. “ _That,_ I am rigid in.”

“Okay, old man,” Arthur replies, his overconfident candor returning. “As soon as you stop makin’ it so _boring._ ”


End file.
